


Natural

by e_wills



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: F/M, and by communing I mean outdoor sex, classy smut, communing with nature
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-11
Updated: 2018-06-11
Packaged: 2019-05-20 19:43:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,563
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14900783
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/e_wills/pseuds/e_wills
Summary: Hiccup and Astrid slip away from the Midsummer festivities to "commune with nature."





	Natural

The forests of Berk were temples of superstition; the flora breathed and the musty earth listened. Every tree had eyes and the streams winding down from the mountains babbled over stones. Every child on the island had grown up hearing stories of trolls and spirits: dangers and disasters that awaited foolish adventurers deep within the woods. The gods played there, and mortal men was not welcome but to hunt and gather medicines after beseeching the divine for their mercies. One was never to stray far, out of earshot of the village, lest they never return.

That was the age-old warning: the forest was not to be explored, violated by curiosity or boredom. But dragons were hostile once, which no one had accounted for when myths were born.

Hiccup had never feared the woods, much to his father’s dismay. As a child, he found respite therein, among the shade and birds’ songs, far from the scrutiny of his people. Perhaps he had been foolish, or lucky at best; but the trees had cared nothing for his shortcomings.

Over the years, the island hadn’t changed: the forests were still lush and green in the summers, overgrown with moss and ferns beneath a canopy of tightly woven leaves. The mists rolling down from the mountains still shrouded the woods, adding to their mystery. And Hiccup was no less thankful for their taciturn nature at twenty, as the trees closely guarded the secrets they witnessed—like a rendezvous between young lovers while the village of Berk was preoccupied with Midsummer.

With the revels and the alcohol as a suitable distraction, no one missed two independent dragon riders. For all anyone knew, they were off charting the edge of the world to see just how large Jörmungandr had grown. But they had never left the island, retreating into the thick mist and wooded hills. Their dragons played by the stream, catching the fish that taunted them by darting in and out of the flashes of sunlight on the rippling surface.

Astrid struck first, grasping Hiccup’s tunic, pulling him in for a kiss as wild as the forest. On her lips, he tasted beer, lust, and the earthiness that enveloped everything. He could smell the soil and the pine; and the scented oils she used in her hair. Their tongues were as busy as their hands, and each bare swath of skin was bathed in patchwork sunlight and caressed by the summer breeze. The leaves rustled above them, as soft and relaxed as the breath that passed between their lips.

“When you asked me to go flying with you, I should’ve known what you really mean,” Astrid said, smiling into his neck; her lips tickled just below his jaw, and Hiccup suspected she liked the stubble there.

He untucked her tunic from her skirt, slipping a hand beneath. He charted each rib until he palmed her through her bindings. “Oh, I think you knew.”

Her blue eyes flashed deviously above a coy little smirk.

They were unhurried. No one would come looking, no one would bother them. Only careless dragons and songbirds bore witness to the half-naked bodies wrapped in a tight embrace. They would be difficult to spot through the dense foliage and thick treeline surrounding the glade.

Hiccup whispered things that gave Astrid goosebumps despite the warm afternoon. She shivered in his hands, pressing into him as he detailed the ways he wished to enjoy her: promises of long, skilled fingers and an eager mouth. Her pleasure was his, after all. He enjoyed tasting her, mouth full of her most intimate folds and crevices. To feel Astrid losing herself in his ministrations was its own reward. He still felt the rush of desire when she touched him, kissed him, or looked at him like she needed him too. She could not be tamed, after all; fierce and lovely and dangerous—she was his respite now.

They were tangled up on the ground in to time at all, inextricably entwined as the knotted roots of an old tree. Clothes continued to shed like dying leaves, with Astrid’s hands free to wander and knead the over the muscles of Hiccup’s back tempered from years in the smithy. She explored him with the same self-assuredness with which she braved Berk’s forests. The rocks and wooded hills were as familiar to her as the slope of Hiccup’s bare shoulders, strong and freckled. Astrid feared nothing; not wilderness nor beast. She conquered everything, and Hiccup had so easily succumbed.

He kissed her breasts, tasting every inch of her skin as if thirsted for it. Astrid sighed beneath him, her chest swelling and falling to capture his full attention. His teeth grazed a nipple, enough to make her whimper, before he laved it with his tongue. She writhed closer, her naked hips twisting in his hands. The first touch of heat and a thicket of curls on his thigh was enough to make his hardened cock throb with envy. Imagination and memory blended together until he could just about feel himself buried inside her.

“I’ve got something better,” he murmured, halting her lazy grinding.

His fingertips stroked delicate folds, and Astrid grasped him by the nape of his neck. Her other hand dug into the damp mossy soil beneath them, grounding herself by whatever network of roots running deep. Hiccup would’ve never guessed once that his talents and dexterity extended to such intimate pursuits; but Astrid loved his hands—craved them, if the way she pushed down against his knuckles was any indication. Easy pleasure was stirred up by the precision of fingering, and Hiccup was well-practiced and thoroughly learned. He now took to it like a bird to flight—or more accurately, a wolf to the hunt. The passion he elicited from his lover was like a heady scent on the wind, whetting his own sexual appetites until they were all but irresistible.

“ _Hiccup_ ,” Astrid moaned; and his name rolled off her tongue so sweetly, like summer berries that grew in the thick underbrush.

His fingers continued to tease, sliding in and out of her tight sex with sensual rhythm. He could reach hidden depths, probing tender mysteries that wanton thrusting alone could not. Such expert touches brought Astrid off the ground, back arched up like a green branches of a sapling. The heel of his hand rubbed against her clit with gentle but relentless pressure. Perspiration gathered along her brow, below her kransen, and along her upper lip. She glistened from the humidity and the flush of her skin completely unrelated to the season. He boiled her blood with careful probing and relentless fingers; he was her summer sun.

Not one to make a liar of himself, he slid down her body, blessing her curves and hipbones with reverent lips. He stopped only when he was level with that nest of dark curls.

Astrid covered her eyes with folded arms, whispering an anticipatory, “Oh, my gods…”

But she did not protest. Her pale thighs fell open in delightful invitation.

Hiccup wasted no time, kissing her slick, most delicate flesh; tracing over those folds with his tongue. She tasted exquisite; smelled of her own heady scent, that seeped into Hiccup’s brain and took hold of his senses. Her body was a powerful intoxicant, and he drank her in like the clear waters of a mountain stream. He was buried deep, nose brushing her clit and making her legs tremble. She gasped and called his name, clawing and the dirt and raking up the short grass.

Bringing Astrid to orgasm was always a thrill. When Hiccup had discovered he could do so more than once, it became a personal goal that time, and every time since.

Her breaths grew short and ragged. She squirmed without purposed, hands grasping at him haphazardly. Somewhere in her unintelligible moaning, his name flitted about fragmented, coming together only when she reached the edge.

“Ahh—haaa! AH! HICCUP!” she cried, his named echoing into the wild before dissipating among the trees, forever muted by the thick woods.

She shamelessly pushed his head into her body, seeking more sensation from his face; and he moaned from the raw desire it spurred in him.

No one could hear them. Astrid’s ecstatic screams alarmed only the birds as she carried on in otherworldly bliss. The forest had a reputation for straddling the realms of men and the supernatural; and she was there. Her body convulsed with pleasure, throwing her into some other plane out among the stars for which she was named. Hiccup could feel the goosebumps as he caressed her strong thighs. He lapped at her sex through every wave; long, slow drags of his tongue that made Astrid shudder.

“Stop,” she pleaded, tapping his shoulder. “It’s too much. I can’t…”

Hiccup grinned and withdrew from her just far enough to meet her eyes. He held himself over her, propped up on his hands. Astrid panted with a tint to her cheeks to match the nearby wildflowers stippled on the lush greenery. Hiccup could feel the relish of her climax on his face, cooled by the breeze—and he didn’t care; he’d wear her on him all day if it wouldn’t cause a scandal.

He met her lips in a hot, open-mouthed kissed. Astrid moaned and wrapped herself around him, her limbs like vines; he was caught in her grasp and he didn’t fight it as she rolled him onto his back. He grimaced a little at the sensation of damp moss and dirt on his skin. But it was quickly forgotten with the weight of Astrid straddling his narrow hips, his rigid cock pressing into her inner thigh.

She looked wild, hair tousled with blades grass and bit of dirt stuck in her braid.

The forest looked good on her.

“Is this okay?” she asked, rocking against his straining cock in one unfair, but entirely welcome move.

“Of course.”

Hiccup would never protest to watching Astrid ride him; to watching her roll her hips and sway atop him. As she lowered herself onto his cock eagerly, and with unwavering confidence, higher thought vanished from his mind with the quickness of a skittish hare. Logistically, it eased the burden and discomfort some of their more creative positions put on his left leg, but more to the point: he was mesmerized by the way her body moved.

The undulation of her lower half paired with the overwhelming sensation of her sex squeezing and stroking his own was enough to hold him captivated; to rip desperate noises from his throat and focus all his energy into the liquid heat where their bodies joined. Furthermore, it was breathtaking to watch her lost in the pleasure he gave her.

Even in the throes of lust and need, they shared tender smiles and affectionate glances as tangible as her hand splayed across his sweaty chest.

“So  _good,”_  she murmured.

Hiccup only hummed in agreement, unable to speak and barely able to open his eyes for the glimpse of her euphoria plain on her face; and reflected in the grinding of her hips. Senses heightened. Everything was brighter, more vivid. The sun was all but blinding, filtering through the green canopy above and glinting off Astrid’s golden hair. 

He was adrift in the stifling heat of the summer and Astrid’s body gripping him; twisting and turning around him; glancing across part of his cock hypersensitive and desperate for attention.  _Wetness_  was important, consuming his thoughts and sitting heaving in his chest; and coiling below his navel. Discomfort and  _tightness_  gathered in his nethers, robbing him of breath and draining his intellect. Everything,  _everything_ seemed to throb and pulse with urgency.

Blunt nails would leave crescent indents in the soft flesh of Astrid’s hips—but Hiccup’s hands were like vices, urging her on and maintaining that dizzying rhythm. He caught flashes of awareness: his name uttered breathlessly, Astrid’s hand clutching at her own hair, her full and parted lips, and the distracting bounce to her perfect breasts. All of these things settled in his loins, snapping the coil and plunging him into a white hot starburst. Astrid’s echoing cry seemed distant this time, mingling with a growl that was vaguely recognizable as his own.

They were motion: frantic release and involuntary spasms. One orgasm was indistinguishable from one another, rippling back and forth across their skin, through there muscles, and in their bones; they were one in the same. Desire and pleasure and deep satisfaction.

Hiccup spent every last bit of his seed into Astrid’s dripping sex; and she continued to ride him, milking his cock until he feared he might die. His nerves were too raw and Astrid’s warm folds rubbed over his vulnerable flesh far too intensely. One benefit to the holiday calendar was that it made keeping track of cycles easy: the movement of the stars and the shifting of Astrid’s hormones. The solstice brought not only frivolity, but also peace of mind to their wild indiscretions. 

And there was nothing more natural in the world that the earth and the breeze; and the sweat and the sex. In the forest, time was of little relevance apart from the changing of the seasons. Hiccup had some indication of the minutes they had burned there, but a romp in the woods would be lost in the greater timeline of the Midsummer festival.

“Okay,  _okay,”_  he panted, patting her ass until she moved.

Astrid dismounted him with a soft laugh, collapsing beside him on the ground; which felt surprisingly cool against their heated skins.

“That was incredible,” Astrid purred, stretched out and basking in the pieces of sunlight interspersed with abundant shade.

“It always is,” Hiccup replied. He breathed deeply, sweeping his damp bangs from his forehead.

Astrid rolled onto her side and kissed his forehead, tracing his jawline with tender fingertips.

“I love you, Hiccup.”

“I love you, too. Until I die—which make come sooner than expected if we keep this up.”

Astrid lightly swatted his shoulder. “It was your idea!”

“Yeah, but you can’t resist me.”

“Mm, you  _are_  the most attractive fish bone,” Astrid conceded. 

“See? Irresistible.”

Astrid curled into him, head on his chest. Their dragons bounded through the underbrush, snapping twigs and creating a ruckus that disturbed the otherwise serene glade. Hiccup had spent many hours of his youth exploring Berk’s forests, curious what lay hidden in the trees; but he couldn’t recall much of those excursions now. The forest had come to signify something else: freedom and secrecy—a place he and Astrid could all but call their own, to come and go to as they pleased, doing whatever they pleased. They had not run into vengeful forest spirits or gods yet—or at least, none who dared tangled with their dragons.

“Should we get back?” Astrid asked, but she held onto him tightly.

The soothing warmth of skin on skin was too hard to give up. The relaxing melody of the birds in the trees was preferable to the drunken cacophony of Berk’s holidays. Fresh air and gentle wind held more appeal the aroma of beer and body odor and that stagnant heat of a packed mead hall.

“In a little while,” Hiccup replied, closing his eyes.

They had no reason to rush, he decided; the celebration would continue into the night. Besides, he quite liked the forest.


End file.
